Extraordinarliy Ordinary
by italian-hipster
Summary: My parents were gone. I was pulled out of school. Placed on some god-forsaken spaceship of SHIELD's. Set under the care of a rag-tag team of superheroes. Saw some pretty top secret shit. Almost got killed a couple of times. Struggled with depression. Ate some pizza. Why did this happen to me? I was ordinary. Extremely ordinary. Extraordinarily ordinary.
1. Tony Fucking Stark

**Sadly, I do not own Marvel or anything affiliated with The Avengers.**

**I only own Gabby.**

**Read on, I say!**

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_She was so ordinary. Her ordinary straight hair brushed lamely past her shoulders, mousy brown in color, Her face was relatively ordinary and clear, save one or two red spots on the left side of her chin. Her eyes were an ordinary shade of , which flickered around the large, plain room and at the people seated around her at the long conference table. She did not have a model's body; her stomach was not flat, she had a slight muffin-top, her thighs were a bit large, though she had rather skinny ankles. She was wearing an ordinary grey pullover, with the words "Disneyland, Est. 1955" on the front with a whitewash picture of Mickey Mouse. Ordinary straight-legged jeans were on her bottom half, followed by an ordinary pair of black high tops. She was worrying her bottom lip as her hands rested on the mahogany, fingertips pressed together. Her sleeve had exposed her wrist, revealing two pink hair bands._  
_Yes, she was ordinary. Extremely ordinary. Extraordinarily ordinary._

* * *

"Team, this is Gabriella McNeeson," Agent Fury, a man I had met earlier, informed the people sitting around me as he handed them each a manilla folder. Agent Fury was a tall, brooding man with an eye patch and an eternal scowl. He wore all black, and had a look on his face that suggested that he knew something you didn't, and he wasn't going to tell you what it was. "She'll be staying with us on the hellicarrier for a while, so try to make her welcome." He walked to a wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms in front of his torso and looking on at the group of people like a father closely watching his rambunctious children.

I looked all around at the people reading the folders they had been handed, which were probably about me, considering we were on some top secret government ship slash airplane thingy. After realizing everyone was reading through the folders and wouldn't be speaking for a while, I then resorted to pulling one of my hair-ties off of my wrist and twisting it and pulling it and wrapping it around my fingers. A nervous twitch, some might call it.

I knew why I was here, though it still hadn't hit me full force yet. I half expected my mom and dad to come through the door any moment, explaining that it was a training exercise or a testing unit, like they always did, and take me back to our normal house and to my normal room where I would normally read and listen to the normal Gershwin and the normal Beatles, and then normally go to school and sit in a normal boring classroom and listen about how the earth revolves around the sun and blah, blah, blah.

But I knew that moment of normality would never come.

I was pulled back to reality by someone speaking. Quickly, I looked up to find a man with mused black hair that matched his eyes, which seemed to be x-raying me, and a light smirk etched into his tan features.

Crap. That man was Anthony Stark.

Of course I knew who he was. From the second I walked into the room I noticed. He was a freaking billionaire, and one of the most famous men on earth. I didn't hyperventilate like I thought I would, or break down sobbing at his feet (not that I really felt like doing those things right then - well - _considering_.) I had kept my mouth shut and my eyes on my shoelaces. But now he had spoken to me and I hadn't heard him and _how are you supposed to come back from that?_ "Umm, sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"Do you wanna be called Gabriella or Gabby?" he questioned, thick black eyebrow raised. "Even though you look more like a Margo to me. Gabriella. Really? If I had to choose, based on your facial structure and your introverted-ness, I'd go with Gabby. It makes you seem more welcoming and - _ouch_!" He looked wide-eyed across the hardwood at a slightly older and more gray-haired man with kind eyes who was glaring at him. "Oh, right," he mumbled scratching the back of his neck, "be respectful and kind the the kid who just lost her parents." He cleared his throat, which distracted me from staring at the circle of light glowing mutedly under his black fitted t-shirt. Our eyes met yet again. "So," he started, lightly smirking, "Gabby or Gabriella?"

I was slightly taken aback by his bluntness, and sat there in my seat, mouth slightly agape. But then I though, I had seen him tell a whole room of reporters and camera men and column-writers to sit down on the floor while he ate a cheeseburger. Then he went on to say that yes, he was Iron Man. On live television.

No, this was nothing.

I hesitated. "Oh, uhh, emm, - G-Gabby is fine, I-I guess," I finally stuttered out.

"Coolio," he said, nodding his head. "I can work with that."

Some time passed before a very skinny and fit redheaded woman (to whom I was already jealous of) asked me, "How old are you, Gabby?"

I don't know why she would ask me this, considering all my information is probably in the stupid manilla folder, but I answered her anyway. "Fifteen."

She subtly nodded, her red curls bouncing, and looked back at the folder.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes and I adjusted my glasses, glancing at the people around me. Tony Stark, the billionaire. A guy with small, thin rimmed glasses and slightly graying hair, but with kind brown eyes and worry lines. Some dude with a military haircut and a weird black vest-thing on who looked like he could kick my ass with a spoon. A man who's biceps rivalled trees trunks and was in desperate need of a haircut. Another guy that looked like he stepped out of an old Disney movie, and was also incredibly buff _and_ highly attractive. Finally, the only woman in the group, who had a perfect model's body and, no less, a ginger. Let's not forget creepy Agent Fury and the dude who was short and balding dressed in an expensive looking suit. I think his name was Coulson.

Everyone in the room looked up as Tony Stark stood up from his seat and stretched his arms over his head. "Well, its been great, its been fun," he snatched up his manilla folder, "but I gotta blow this crack joint. I'm starving." With that, he walked through the stainless steel double doors and left us all.

The guy with the black vest looked over at Agent Fury, who waved his hand to signal the meeting was as good as over. Vest-Dude and Ginger Barbie stood and walked out, followed by Bad Hair Day, who was carrying this gavel-looking thing. Then, Specs quietly snuck out, clinging the folder to his crest. The last to stand was Mr. Blonde And Perfect, who, when he reached the doors, looked back at me for a second. But I had already been following him with my eyes. I quickly looked away, pretending to not notice the pity in his eyes when he looked at me. I quickly reasoned that people can't have freaking emotions in their eyes because eyes are just a bunch of blood vessels and a retna and a pupil and we actually see things upside-down until our brain transfers the image right-side up. I finally heard the door open and swing closed, leaving me to try and clear my thoughts.

I sat at the long table for a while, not really thinking about anything. _Trying_ not the think about anything. I didn't want to think about Tony Stark or classified government information or that my parents were never coming back. So I just sat there, staring at the grain of the dark wood.

Soon, my stomach made a loud and audible sound, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since seven that morning. And, considering it was 8:32 in the evening, according to the clock above the doors, I should probably eat.

I then allowed myself to think. I thought about how really hungry I was, and hoping that there would be a food court or something on this god-forsaken ship, and praying that they would have something with a lot of carbs and fat and calories that I knew I would regret eating, and how every time I ate something like that I regretted it, but, just, _I like food_.

A hand on my shoulder made me startle out of my thought. I looked around the dull room to notice that Agent Fury had left, and that the balding man was standing next to my chair, kind of smiling, which looked like he didn't do often. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand to help me to my feet, which I took. "I'll show you to the cafeteria."

"Do they have pizza?" I blurted suddenly as we reached the door.

He fully smiled this time and held open the door for me. "Yes, I believe they do."

"Thank God." I said, exasperated.

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**Ta-Da! Okay, I'm not sure if I should continue, so please, if you wish for more chapters, please please PLEASE REVIEW! I most likely won't put another chapter up if I don't get any reviews or any feedback.. But I sincerely hope you liked it!**

**~Z**


	2. Don't Watch Me Eat, I Will Kill You

I know I should probably be working on **Defeating Evil** but I had to get this out of my head! So, without further ado, Chapter 2!

You know when you first walk into Subway, and the scent of fresh baked bread and deliciousness hits your nostrils like a freight train?

That was how it was like walking into the Helicarrier's cafeteria.

It was louder and more crowded then I though it would be at 8:40 pm. People in business suits and black SHIELD jumpsuits were everywhere. Some in line at the multiple food joints around the room, others sitting at the many steel tables. I looked around the circular room, slightly in awe that these people were all wearing pretty much the same thing. I was kind of like a twisted episode of Star Trek.

"So, how does this work?' I turned to Coulson, motioning towards the different food joints.

"It's just like any cafeteria," he explained with no emotion. "You get in like, tell them what you want, get your food, and sit down."

Well, this guy was a bucket of sunshine. "Okay..." I sighed out. I looked at the signs on the different places. Taco Bell. McDonald's. Panda Express. Some weird vegan looking place, amongst others. I bit my lip, looking back over at Coulson. He seemed to be considering the options as well. "What do _you_ want?" I asked awkwardly.

He half smiled, or something close to that, and I followed his eyes to the red and blue sign that read out 'Dominos Pizza'. Hey, this dude's got good taste.

"You did mention pizza earlier." He motioned for me to follow as we booked it to the end of the line. There were a lot of excuse me's and after you's as we waded through the throng of agents, and it wasn't until Coulson and I were awkwardly pushed up against each other in line that I spotted the long scarlet cape and the greying hair.

Bad Hair Day and Specs were making their way over to Vest Dude and Ginger Barbie, who were sitting at a large table near the center of the room. Bad Hair Day sat down heavily, greeting the already sitting duo heartily, which was return with not nearly as much enthusiasm. Specs then placed his tray on the table, nodded subtly, and set his behind in the chair with caution, as if worried he might break it.

I observed the duet turned quartet, then mentally kicked myself. Of course, of all things, I would use orchestra terms. Then I thought about my school band, and how I was supposed to go to festival with them in a couple of days. My dad was so excited to chaperon, and - _no, you will not think about that, Gabby. Think about anything else. Push that thought out of your mind and onto the floor and stomp on it._

I subconsciously inched up in line as I sought out the other two members of the team I had been in the company of earlier in an attempt to distract myself. Ah, there's Mr. Stark, chatting up some unsuspecting cashier who's just trying to give him his change. The twenty something girl blushes as he leans on the counter, and even from across the room, I can see the smirk. A blue thermal suddenly catches my view, and over yonder walks Mr. Tall, Not So Dark, But Definitely Handsome. He's standing in front of a soda machine, looking immensely confused. He reaches out, unsure, and gently pushes the black lever. Coke-A-Cola spurts out of the nozzle, and he pulls his hand back quickly in surprise.

Quiet chuckles bubble up in my throat as I watch him grab at least twenty napkins in an attempt to wipe the sticky liquid off his hands. Now he just looks exasperated.

"Hello, Miss, what can I get you?"

I turn my head quickly and make eye contact with the older woman behind the cash register. I hadn't realized I was already in the front of the line. "I, uhh - small hand-tossed with pepperoni and Italian sausage," I relayed quickly out of habit. "And a, uhh, a water." She pressed a few keys on the register and I quickly added a "please" as an afterthought. God, where were my manners?

"That'll be $9.50," the older lady deadpanned.

My awkward smile faded quickly as I remembered something. I have no cash. Awesome. "Um, I, uhhh..."

A voice materialized on my right. "She's with me."

I glanced over at Coulson as he smiled tautly at the woman.

"Whatever," she said, bored. "Next person in line, please!"

"You didn't have to do that, you know." We walked through tables full of agents and I was careful to not drop my newly bought - well, not bought - meal. I had scoured out a table near the wall of the room, which was actually just a huge window, and far away from the super-table. I made a bee-line for it.

I could hear Coulson's confused voice from behind me. "Of course I did. What else would you have done?"

"I don't know. Not eat?"

"That's ridiculous," he stated with finality.

We finally made it to the table, and I gazed out the overly large window-wall. We were somewhere in the Pacific, I think. It was a clear night, so the stars reflected brightly off of the calm water. The airplane runway was lit up, but beyond that was darkness; the crescent moon granted little light. I looked off to the horizon, where the sky meets the sea, and the water swallows the stars. My inside voice suddenly spoke to me: _Don't you dare get sentimental, Gabriella._

I quickly looked away and set my meal on the metal table, sitting my butt on the hard steel chair. I placed my hands in my lap as Coulson set his stuff down as well.

"You don't have to sit with me if you want." He looked at me, smirking. I hurried on. "I mean, you can if you _want_, but, I mean, I figured you'd want to hang out with your superhero friends, or something."

He sighed and placed his paper cup of the table. "I'm going to go get napkins."

"Oh, uhh, okay. You do that," I said as he stalked off across the large room.

I opened my small pizza box and sighed contently as the smell wafted towards me. "Praise the good Lord in Heaven." I was about to take a huge bite when I noticed the occupants at the super-table. Mr. Perfect and Tony Stark has joined them, and whole group were discussing something quietly that seemed important. The ginger suddenly shot a look at me, and I quickly averted my eyes back to my pizza. Great. Now that I know they're looking at me, I'll never be able to eat. I hate people watching me eat. It's just awkward.

I suddenly heard multiple chairs scrap across the ground, and I looked up to see the whole gang coming towards me. Oh god. What are they doing?! Shit, I think they're gonna sit with me or something. Don't be awkward, don't be awkward,_ don't be awkward_!

I stared intently at my open pizza box as if it held the secret of the universe. The footsteps grew closer and louder until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I probably just at least three feet in the air, startled. _Wow, Gabby. Just wow._ I turned my head around to make eye contact with Specs. The whole gaggle was behind him, waiting. He must have been chosen as the ambassador.

"Miss McNeeson, may we join you?"

I stuttered. "Uh-umm y-yeah. Sure, I guess." I nodded to a chair. "Coulson's sitting there, though."

Stark suddenly plopped down across from me as everyone else chose a chair. Bad Hair Day appeared on my right, and I was suddenly thankful that there was the window-wall on my left and no room for someone to sit there, too.

I glanced at everyone at the table. I realized I didn't know their names (except for Stark, of course).

Apparently Specs could read my thought or something, because the next words that came out of his mouth were, "I should probably introduce everybody." Yup, definitely the ambassador.

He began listing everyone off and indicating which name belonged to whom. "Clint Barton," Vest Dude raised his eyebrows in greeting. "Natasha Romanoff," Ginger Barbie looked up from her salad and smiled half-heartedly. "Steve Rogers," Mr. Perfect extend his hand to me, which I hesitantly took, and shook my hand firmly, greeting me with a "ma'am". Swoon. Next was "Thor Odinson", who just so happened to be sitting next to me. Thor, where had I hear that name before? Oh well, it'll come to me. I focused back on Specs as he concluded the introductions. "And, of course, you already know Tony," (who was still staring intently at me, by the way.) These people were on a first name basis with each other? Weeeiiirrd. "I'm Bruce Banner." He smiled kindly at me as I took it all in.

"The Avengers," I added the unspoken thought for him. I looked around at everyone. "Nice to meet you. You all probably know who I am by now, thanks to that manilla folder," I motioned to said folder under Barton's elbow. He looked slightly sheepish as I threw him under the bus.

Everyone was still looking at me. Well, so much for not being awkward. "You can, like, eat, or whatever."

That was all they needed. Everyone dug into their meal. That is, everyone but Stark. He continued to stare at me, disregarding his Taco Bell burrito.

Coulson appeared and took his seat, not saying a word. No one else seemed to notice. He hadn't even brought napkins. I soon figured he must have left on purpose to provide an opportunity so everyone else could join me.

Jerk.

As Thor tore the KFC chicken off of it's bones hungrily, I tried to intake some of my pizza. Honestly, I did. But with Stark's constant honey colored eyes on me, it was impossible.

After a few minutes of his constant stare, I spoke. "Can I help you, Mr. Stark?" Steve Rogers looked up from the crossword puzzle he was working on, as did Banner tear his eyes away from his Filipino cuisine. No one else seemed too worried about it.

Stark smirked at me. "No. You're fine."

I sighed, annoyed, and looked back at my still uneaten pizza. Everyone at the table was finishing their food and talking amongst themselves. I looked up and noticed Banner's eyes were flashing between Stark and I. We made eye contact and I looked back down again.

Someone cleared their throat. I glanced up. It was Banner. Of course.

"So, Miss McNeeson," he started, unsure, "What are your favorite classes at your high school?"

Really? You're going with _that_ approach? I decided to not be rude and answer him. "Um, well I'm really interested in history." If Steve Rogers were a dog, his ears would be perked up. "Right now, we're learning about the Russian revolution. Vladamir Lenin. Joseph Stalin. Communism. All that stuff." Miss Romanoff visible tensed as I spoke of these matters, but I shrugged it off. Maybe there was a hair in her salad or something. A sudden thought occurred to me. "Well, I mean, I _was_ learning about it..."

Banner smiled at me, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Anything else?"

I pulled my hair tie off of my wrist for the second time that day and began twisting it around my fingers. "I'm in the wind ensemble. And the water polo team. And the swim team."

"Well, someone's a busy bee."

I turned my head dramatically towards Stark. "Can you please, like, _not_ stare at me anymore?" My parents were right, he is kind of a dick. _No, Gabby, don't think about them._

Coulson looked up at my short tone, as did the rest of the table. Barton raised an eyebrow at Miss Romanoff, to which she subtly shook her head.

I saw that out of my peripheral, considering I was having a mini staring contest with Tony Stark.

"Why?" He smirked. He then eyed the hair tie wrapped around my fingers. "Does it make you nervous?"

I slammed my hands down on the table, almost knocking over Thor's drink. Some agents at near tables were eying us with confusion, but I didn't care at the moment. I felt like poison dart could come out of my retinas any second as I glared at Stark. My meal forgotten on the table, I stood up, my chair caught as collateral damage as it clattered to the floor.

"Ma'am, now hold on a second-"

The rest of Steve Rogers' sentence was lost in the large chatty food court as I stormed away like a tornado, heading for the nearest door.

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**Ta-freakin-da! I hope you guys liked it! Man, I wrote this while I was supposed to be doing English homework! Damn you guys! But I've already started on chapter 3, soooooo.. Yeah.**

**Please remember to REVIEW! It gives me encouragement to continue! Thanks lovies (:**

**~Z**


	3. Zombie Slumber

**Oh my god, I am SOOO sorry for the wait! I had this chapter all written out, but apparently I didn't save it, and like half of it disappeared! UGH! Anyway, this chapter is honestly kinda sucky. It's just a filler. But let me know if there are any certain scenarios you would like to see in future chapters. I'm up for suggestions! There will be plenty of awkward moments and cutey moment, and some serious moments, too. There's actually a plot to this, believe it or not.**

**Sadly, Steve Rogers is still not in my bed, therefore I STILL do not own the Avengers.**

**Damn.**

* * *

Once outside the circular cafeteria, I felt like I could breathe again. The door swung closed behind me, and I slumped against it. My mousy hair fell into my face and my large glasses slipped down my nose as I breathed heavily. Did I actually just do that? Oh my god._ Okay, so maybe that wasn't the __**best**__ approach to take with Stark. _But he was an insensitive prick, I tried to reason with myself. _Yes, true, but storming out of there like the place was on fire isn't going to help you with these people. PLUS, I thought you were helplessly in love with him and wanted to have his babies._ Yeah, well that was just from what I've seen on Tumblr, and you can shut your mouth now.

I snapped my head up when I heard fast footsteps approaching the other side of the cafeteria door. Really? They're coming _after_ me? Obviously, I really didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment, thank you very much. So I did the first thing that came to mind.

I started to run.

Leave it to me, running away from my problems. Anyway, I was already hurtling around the corner, my rubber soles skidding on the smooth floor, when I heard the door swing open and Coulson call out "Miss McNeeson!"

Obviously, I didn't stop to see what he wanted.

I ran through the corridors of the Helicarrier, the sound of my heavy breathing keeping me company. Now, I normally hate running. Like, I _loath_ the activity with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I was a swimmer. That's what I do. But, considering the hallways of the Helicarrier weren't 5 feet deep with water, running was my only option. And honestly, it felt good to have my legs begging for me to stop moving them at this alarming fast rate. It felt good to feel this pain. At least I was _feeling_.

Lately, ever since, SHIELD agents came to my home and told me the news, I've just felt numb. I didn't cry when I found out my parents were gone. I didn't break down during the funeral. It's been almost two weeks, and I haven't showed any emotion. That is, until tonight. It felt good to get pissed at Stark. It felt good to have my legs screaming in agony. The pain felt good, because it meant I was feeling. I meant that I wasn't as numb as I thought I was.

I forgot I was running for a few minutes, not really knowing where I was going. Actually, I had literally no clue where I was going. It was just a corner, a hallway, footfalls coming up behind me, another corner, et cetera. Very redundant.

After what seemed like years, the footfalls behind me became fainter and fainter. I was still running though, passing a huge window revealing what I assumed to be a lab of some sort. How the hell did I end up here? I slowed down to a jog, inspecting my new surroundings, which wasn't a good idea because now there was no way I was running again. My adrenaline had apparently run out, and I started walking, panting like a dog. Well, now I could_ definitely_ feel the pain.

Now what? Where even am I? Where's everyone else? What time is it? Speaking of time, I suddenly realized how tired and exhausted I was. I yawned heavily as I trudged further down the corridor, passed the lab. My eyes were drooping, and I knew I needed to find some place suitable for sleep. Fast.

I turn a corner (again) and slowly shuffled along. I felt like a zombie. Probably looked like one, too.

When I sure I was going to drop dead from exhaustion, I came across an open space, like a living area or something. The tile turned to carpet as I entered, and I was greeted with a heavenly sight: a couple of plushy chairs, a large television, and to top it all off, a long, extremely comfy looking couch. _God bless._

I didn't care that I was still in jeans. I didn't care that I had no clue where I was. I didn't care that the super-team would probably find me any second. All I cared about was the plushiness of the couch as a sank into the cushions. The way my feet no longer needed to support me and were left to dangle over the armrest.

Needless to say, the moment my head his the cushion, I was out.

* * *

I was vaguely aware of the following.

I didn't know how long I had been dozing on the couch. My hair was sticking to my forehead and my spectacles were half way off my face, awkwardly pushing into the bridge of my nose. As I regained some consciousness, I slowly became aware of hushed voices around me. I was still half asleep, and too lazy to open my eyes, let alone move for that matter. I simply listened.

"Tony, we can't just leave her here!" Ah, Banner, the ambassador. Must be the voice of reason in the group.

"Of course we can! She seems comfortable enough." Yeah, well screw you too Stark.

"Stark, you're a real ass sometimes." I think that was Steve Rogers. Double swoon. He went on to say something about my well being and how they couldn't just abandon me here. Or it might have been that he wanted to play golf. Everyone's speech was pretty fuzzy considering my brain was half way to shutting down.

However, I could clearly hear Stark huff and puff his sassy reply. "Then what do you suggest we do, most knowledgeable one?"

There were a few moments of silence as the three men seemed to consider the question. I attempted to go back to sleep, which was what I wanted more than anything at that moment. But alas, twas not to be.

"We need to take her to -"

What possessed me to move, I don't know, but Banner stopped short as I unexpectedly turned my body. I was now laying on my side, the crook of my arm cradling my head. I mumbled some incoherent gibberish into my arm, and went limp yet again. What the fuck? I'm half asleep, not half dead.

Everything was quiet for a few moments. No one even breathed. The quiet was much appreciated, and I almost feel back into a zombie slumber.

Almost.

Banner spoke much softer this time around, so I didn't catch exactly what he said. I do know, however, that it had the words "move her" and "room". Whatever that meant. I honestly could care less. Can't they tell I just wanted to sleep? Is that to much to ask? Do superheroes not sleep or something? Just, what the hell?

I heard who I guessed was Stark scoff at Banner's statement, and say quite loudly "I'm not gonna do that!" which was follows by aggravated shushes from Rogers and Banner. I mumbled some more, not even sure what I was saying, myself. I really should learn to control my involuntary noises.

Everything was quiet for a second time, and this time about 3/4 of my brain pulled the plug for the night. I was vaguely aware of my open mouth, and I tiredly prayed to God that I was not drooling. Now that would be embarrassing.

My ears picked up the exasperated tone of Steve Rogers. He sighed heavily, obviously getting real tired of Tony's shit, and mumbled something along the lines of "I'll do it". For a moment I wondered what exactly "it" pertained to, until large arms scooped me up from the cushions. I was cradled, princess style, close to a firm chest, my cheek brushing again thermal material.

Even with my more-than-half asleep zombie mind, I knew what was happening. Steve Rogers was carrying me.

What the what?

My head lulled against the crook of his elbow and my legs dangled over his arm. I was surprised how comfortable it actually was, but then again it might just have been the sound of his heartbeat and the smell of Old Spice and the fact that he was _freaking carrying me, princess style_. I don't really remember.

The cushions no longer to my back, the cold air took it's chance and slipped in my sleeves and under my sweatshirt. I involuntarily shivered and contracted my body, bringing it closer to the warm chest of Steve Rogers. I think I mumbled something along the lines of "so cold" or "tiiiiiiiiiired". Rogers' body obviously stiffened as I cuddled closer to him, and snickering could be heard somewhere next to me.

"What's wrong, Capsicle? Too close for comfort?"

Steve's chest rumbled against my ear as he growled "Shut it, Tony."

Suddenly, I was being lightly jostled as my chauffeur-of-sorts took off, presumably down the hallway. The overhead lights glared down at me, the back of my eyelids a dull red color. I pulled a face of annoyance and grumbled, stuffing my face further into Steve's thermal. His arms, one under my knees and one under my neck, pulled me a bit tighter to his hard torso. I'm still not sure if it was a subconscious action, but I like to think it was.

On one side of me, Banner was giving some sort of hushed, hurried directions to Steve, saying things like "go to the east wing" and "its the fifth door". Our caravan turned a corner, the breeze of the quick movement giving me shivers. I remember yawning quite widely, and I think Stark compared me to a cat.

Everything was fading pretty fast, and after a while, I stopped listening to the voices around me. Reality became incoherent and disconnected as my eyes rolled to the back of my head and my breathing became slow and even. With the steady tempo set by the long strides and heartbeat of Steve Rogers, I was finally lulled back to sleep.

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**Ugh. Don't look at me! I'm sorry this chapter was horribly horrible. After half of it disappeared, I had some writer's block. But you know what cures that? REVIEWS! Yes, please, my fellow fanfiction readers, please please please review! And that you soooooooo much to everyone that has reviewed! It truly means the world to me, I can't stretch that enough!**

**Long story short, sorry this chapter sucked ass, and please review!**

**~Z**


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